In contrast to the jocund pleasure of children at a round game, take the picture of “old Sarah Battle,” the whist-player. “A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game,” was her celebrated wish. “She was none of your lukewarm gamesters, your half-and-half players, who have no objection to take a hand, if you want one to make up a rubber; who affirm that they have no pleasure in winning; that they like to win one game, and lose another; that they can wile away an hour very agreeably at a card-table, but are indifferent whether they play or no; and will desire an adversary, who has slipt a wrong card, to take it up and play another. Of such it may be said that they do not play at cards, but only play at playing at them. Sarah Battle was none of that breed; she detested them from her heart and soul; and would not, save upon a striking emergency, willingly seat herself at the same table with them. She loved a thorough-paced partner, a determined enemy. She took and gave no concessions; she hated favours; she never made a revoke, nor ever passed it over in her adversary, without exacting the utmost forfeiture. She sat bolt upright, and neither showed you her cards, nor desired to see yours. All people have their blind side--their superstitions; and I have heard her declare, under the rose, that Hearts was her favourite suit. I never in my life (and I knew Sarah Battle many of the best years of it) saw her take out her snuffbox when it was her turn to play, or snuff a candle in the middle of a game, or ring for a servant till it was fairly over. She never introduced, or connived at, miscellaneous conversation during its process: as, she emphatically observed, cards were cards. A grave simplicity was what she chiefly admired in her favourite game. There was nothing silly in it, like the nob in cribbage--nothing superfluous. To confess a truth, she was never greatly taken with cribbage. It was an essentially vulgar game, I have heard her say,--disputing with her uncle, who was very partial to it. She could never heartily bring her mouth to pronounce ‘go,’ or ‘that’s a go.’ She called it an ungrammatical game. The pegging teased her. I once knew her to forfeit a rubber, because she would not take advantage of the turn-up knave, which would have given it her, but which she must have claimed by the disgraceful tenure of declaring ‘two for his heels.’ Sarah Battle was a gentlewoman born.” These, omitting a few delicate touches, are her features by the hand of _Elia_. “No inducement,” he says, “could ever prevail upon her to play at _her favourite_ game for nothing.” And then he adds, “With great deference to the old lady’s judgment on these matters, I think I have experienced some moments in my life when playing at cards _for nothing_ has even been agreeable. When I am in sickness, or not in the best spirits, I sometimes call for the cards, and play a game at piquet _for love_ with my cousin